When I go to the gym to work out, I always see tough guys. It’s weird, though, because, the tough dudes know I’m not a badass. Somehow they know.
Tough guys look at me with angry eyes. They don’t say anything. But they don’t have to. I know what they’re thinking…
Who’s this big asshole who thinks he’s all tough and shit? Does he think he’s gonna come in here and lift weights and get some pussy? Fuck that noize. Fuck this guy, I can kick his ass. Look at what a dork he is…he’s all bald and shit and reading a gay-ass book. Dumbass.
By the time I get to the locker room, the scene is intense.
Loud horks of spit emanate from the shower stalls. Guys in tight briefs weigh each other on the medical scale. Broheims sing to each other. It’s a homoerotic love-storm. There’s no hurry to conceal dangling tendrils…no rush to put a towel over rumpled, purple flesh. The air is alive with possibilities.
I know I’m not as tough as these guys. I haven’t earned the right to let them weigh me.
They know it too. I see the scowls. I feel the weight of their intimidating stares as I remove my clothes. These guys are fearsome, and they want to diddle me 6 ways ’til Sunday. That’s fine, though. That’s what puckered assholes are for.
It’s cool. That’s the scene, and I’ve got to deal with it. The gym is no place for asshole cocksuckers.
So I go to the treadmill to work out. The Top 40 jamz are mesmerizing. The chicks are digging the vibe. I’m digging it too. “I’ve never been in a room with this kind of adrenalized music vibe,” I think.
I nod and I smile, but that’s a mistake. The smile makes me easy prey.
One of the sales reps, a tough guy with frosted hair, lets me know that I’ve crossed the line. He telegraphs a piercing gaze straight into my soul. He lets me know that I’m not tough. I nod solemnly. The nod lets him know that I “get it.” It’s all good, I’m not the alpha male — I know my place.
I’m the beta male. I don’t bring home the freshest kill. It’s true. Like I said, the tough guys sense it. They know. But before I can finish my thought, a sonic boom reverberates from the free weights.
“ORGASM!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!! COCKSUCKERS!!!”
My startle-trigger goes nuclear. A dude with frosted hair is having a seizure. I run over to help but then…I see him drop the weights and high-five his exercise buddies. False alarm. He was just articulating a little gym eros. His crew looks at me like I’m some faggot.
The sauna scene is a little more chill. There’s a certain jocundity…a knowing gladness. I enter the room and the assembled pack-males scan me for weakness. Something about this ritual makes me feel virtuous. Still, it might be a little too virtuous in here. I gallop to the hot tub to fend off intrusive feelings of shame.
I come upon some wet dudes with frosted hair. The water is red hott, but there’s an icy silence in the air. Big tension. Maybe I should go use the tanning booth. Damn, bro.
I make one last effort to fit in. I ask the guys if they’ve seen Fight Club. They glare at me. Eventually they go back to reforesting each others’ back hair.
It’s tough when you’re not the top dog. The social structure of Homo Sapiens is intense. Chicks don’t want to perpetuate the species with a pensive schmoe. They want a strong male to give the species a better chance for survival. Not some Cripple Dick. Maybe my diabetes has pheromones that the chicks can smell…I dunno. Something’s wrong, man.
Here’s how I see it: if a dude has frosted hair, his pool of available mates is deep. For dudes like me — dudes with high blood sugar and a defective pancreas — the pool is shallow. Slim pickings. Fuckin’ sucks.
When I return to the locker room, dudes are naked again. They’re using the electric hand driers to heat up. Their gym flesh quivers. I see an ocean of supple appendages…sinewy rumps…empurpled flab.
The vibes are still pretty intense. They last all the way to the super-busy parking lot, where motherfuckers are kickin’ out the car-stereo jams.
Shit’s cool. I smile once again. I can dig this. Next time I come here, someone might weigh me.
Peace out, peeps. Stay strong.
